


submarine

by magesamell



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Chat Blanc - Freeform, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Jealousy, Post-Episode: Miracle Queen, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magesamell/pseuds/magesamell
Summary: The summer after Master Fu leaves Paris is the longest of Marinette’s life. Adrien begins dating Kagami, Kitty Section prepares for their second-ever music festival, and the miracle box remains sealed, unhelpful and inert. Marinette dreams, and Ladybug and Chat Noir get trapped in a series of closets.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	1. part i: ladybug

In the summer, Marinette dreamed of ice.

The white world, frozen over and bathed in the harsh ultra-violet light. The empty streets yawning, winding, circling. The moon hanging overhead, bleeding sluggishly.

Marinette wishes her costume wasn’t so red, wishes that it wouldn’t make her such a vivid target in the sea of white. He will find her easily, she knows, if she lingers here long, like blood in arctic water. He must be looking — after all, _she_ is looking for _him_ , and what could he do, if not follow her?

She knows, for certain, she is being followed. But he does not catch her; only appears in the way of dreams: gently, lovingly. “Marinette,” he breathes, and surely he could not have cried this ocean of tears. Not him.

Now he will reach out, and now, Marinette wishes, she will meet him, now she will open her mouth and breathe.

He chuckles, crystalline. “You really shouldn’t be here alone.” 

She knows the sea is behind her. If he shoots, she will fall.

When he takes aim, the winter moves with him, dissolving into crumbling static. 

-o-

_“...be bemused, it’s just the news! I’m Nadja Chamack. Tonight we continue our coverage on last week’s akuma attack. Although the identities of the students involved in the skirmish have not been confirmed, we now confirm the identity of Miracle Queen to be Chloe Bourgeois, who previously moonlighted with Ladybug and Chat Noir as Queen Bee, although she did not accompany the duo as often as Rena Rouge or Carapace. Several online fan communities have speculated that Queen Bee was benched from the superhero team because of her well-publicized ‘secret identity.’ The Bourgeois family have as of yet, declined to comment on the events of last week.”_

“Of course they wouldn’t!”

“Lame.”

_“Miracle Queen, however, exposed the civilian identities of several of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s collaborators to Le Papillion, all of whom appeared to be minors. The Ladyblog reported on Monday that the events of last week may have convinced Ladybug to stop recruiting civilians for good.”_

“Look babe, you’re on TV!”

“Ugh _.”_

_“In their first public appearance since last week, Ladybug and Chat Noir fought an akuma early this morning on the banks of the Seine, purifying it just a few minutes past midnight, with no confirmed sightings of any other hero. Reporters did not arrive on the scene in time for questioning. However—”_

“Can you _please_ turn that off, Nino!” Alya moaned, turning her back against the screen and peering over the back of the couch at Marinette, who leaned innocently against the kitchen counter.

“It’s Marinette’s television!” her boyfriend protested. 

“And you’re the one with the remote.” Alya shot back. She cast Marinette wide, baleful eyes. “Please. It’s too depressing.”

Marinette waved her hand, pushing off from the kitchen island. “Turn it off. We’re here to take a break from super hero stuff, anyway.” 

Nino nodded, ignoring Alya, who fell back dramatically onto the sofa, her head in his lap. “When are the others coming over?”

Marinette picked her laptop up and carried it with her to the living room. “In half an hour. I wanted time with just you before them.”

The words revived Alya. She sat straight up. “Are you playing _favorites_ , Mari?” Alya mocked.

Marinette rolled her eyes. She shoved Alya aside so she could sit between her and Nino. “Kitty Section already got the Dupain-Cheng treatment. But this is Nino’s first time performing at the music festival, so for the time being, I’m the exclusive artistic director of everything Nino.” She stared blankly at her laptop screen, considering. “But if they want to revamp their look for the festival, I guess, I will happily consult. I’ll have the time, I think.”

“Are you sure you’re not spreading yourself too thin?” Nino asked. He looked like he didn’t believe her. 

Alya popped her head up. “That’s what I’ve been saying! Don’t you think she looks tired, Nino?

“Alya!” protested Marinette, scandalized. “I’m fine. Lay off.”

“If you say so,” said Nino, but he was looking at her in the way she knew meant he wasn’t actually going to drop the issue. Still, he let her off the hook for now, turning away to check the time on his phone. “Geez, Adrien is super late, isn’t he?”

“Uh, he’s not coming,” said Marinette, clicking forcefully through her file organizer to find her concept sketches. “He has a date with Kagami, I think.”

“Oh,” said Nino, and said nothing else to break the awkward silence. Alya was staring at her with sympathetic eyes.

Marinette breathed. “You guys. I’m fine.”

“If you say—”

“I mean—”

“I’m not lying!” Marinette insisted. She leaned forward, trying to escape their scrutiny. 

Alya nodded, understanding. “Who needs a keyboardist when you’ve got a bass player?”

Marinette’s mouth fell open. 

Nino said: “You do know those instruments are not in any way interchangeable, right?”

“It’s a metaphor, dingus.”

  
  


-o-

Juleka touched a finger to the sketchbook. “Wow, it’s so classic.” 

“I thought so,” said Marinette. “Nino says he wants to do some choreography, so I’d figure the sequins would catch the light—“

“I don’t believe you. Sequins? Nino?”

“I’m not lying!”

“Is he seriously gonna spin?”

“That was what he told me,” Marinette said.

Juleka smiled her subtle half-smile, the one she shared only when she was truly amused. The two of them snuck a look at the musicians, who were all gathered in a gaggle around the coffee table, discussing the fine minutiae of set line ups and amp placement. 

Nino and Rose were locked in a heated discussion and kept appealing to Luka to break the tie. Ivan, for his part, kept agreeing with Rose without looking up from his phone. Nino looked to Luka in desperation to back him up, but Luka didn’t seem much interested in the argument. He kept glancing toward Marinette, and not looking away when she caught him looking.

“I can’t host anymore,” Marinette said to Juleka, the words coming fast and fierce. “I’m going to be up in my eyeballs in fabric soon making costumes, and I need my creative space.”

Juleka nodded serenely. “No biggie. Set up is better on the boat anyway. We come here for the food.”

“Marinette, get your butt in here!” Alya called from the kitchen. “We need help carrying out the plates.”

  
  


-o-

Tikki had told her not to worry. 

“But also, maybe, not let anyone into your room. For the time being.”

The others had taken it well enough, assumed she was working on some secret project for the music festival (which, technically, was true). None of them guessed she had a red and black miracle box stuffed in the darkest corner of her closet, behind a box of her aunt’s CDs. It remained there, innocuous, until she pulled it out.

Now, she sat astride it, sitting on her dirty laundry, back against the wall. “So,” she said conversationally to Tikki. “Have you known many guardians?”

“Oh, dozens,” chirped Tikki. “Though there’s never been a Ladybug guardian before.”

“Huh,” said Marinette. “Is that...bad?”

“Well,” said Tikki, “part of being a guardian is keeping the miraculouses in check. Guardians need defense for other miraculouses’ offense. A moderate miraculous, one that has defensive power, and doesn’t need to recharge its powers. Many chose the turtle, or the butterfly. Some didn’t use one at all.”

“But Ladybug is offensive.” 

“In general, yes.” Tikki hovered, hesitating. “Just because it hasn’t happened before...just because this is different, Marinette, doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just not the same.”

“It won’t let me open it, though,” said Marinette. She peered at the smooth, curved surface of the box. The pattern was a dead giveaway. Superhero merch, she could say. Big fan. Had to buy this heavy orb with no discernible use or opening mechanism. Collectors’ limited edition.

Tikki hummed. “I don’t know much about the box,” she murmured. She gave Marinette a bright smile. “Maybe it needs time to get to know you!”

Or maybe, thought Marinette, it knew better to open for the Ladybug who got her teammates captured by Papillion. 

With that, she shoved the thing back into its hiding place. 

-o-

“Oh,” said Marinette. “We’re in a closet.”

She had pushed the two of them into the room, expecting another office or conference room. As closets go, however, the room was spacious enough. Back to back with Chat Noir, there was enough wiggle room to stand without touching him at all. Instead, she only felt a presence behind her, the radioactive heat of him at her back, like a ghost.

“This always seems to happen to us,” Marinette said good-naturedly, fishing a cookie out of her bag for Tikki.

Which was kind of a lie. Before, they had been strict in finding separate recharge rooms. Marinette, herself, had enforced the rule. But since Dark Owl, the day they had proven to each other there would be no peeking nor other transgressions, this became the option for when there was no other options.

The two of them, together, outside of the suits.

An almost-familiar, magical voice broke the stillness in a drawn out whine. “Really?”

Chat Noir sighed. “Ladybug, do you have any food?”

“But I don’t want to eat that,” whined his kwami.

“This is what we got.”

Weird, Marinette thought. Not like him to forget. “How come—“ 

“I was in the shower!” Chat blurted.

Oh?

Marinette stared at the tidy stack of staples boxes on the shelf in front of her. 

“Does that mean—“ she wondered, and leaned back with a passionate curiosity. It was true. The back of her arms touched bare skin, his naked back.

“ _Chat Noir!_ ” Marinette gasped, delighted. “Wow. _Wow_. You think you know a guy and then he doesn’t even show up for dates prepared.” She tsked, reaching for her purse again. “Leaving me to pick up the check.” She passed him a cookie before retreating from his personal space. 

“I’m— sorry,” he said haltingly. 

“It’s really no big deal,” she said, feeling warm and affectionate. “I know you didn’t, like, engineer this. Trapped bare in a closet with Ladybug.” She giggled at the thought. Just the two of them and these reams of office paper. 

“I’m not naked,” Chat said quickly. “And, I have a girlfriend.”

Marinette was still laughing. “What?”

He began to truly sputter. “I mean — I’m not. We’re not — I really was just taking a shower.”

Marinette’s laughter stalled and died. He really was embarrassed. “You — you have a girlfriend.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. 

For a moment, the only sound in the utility closet was quiet, persistent munching.

“That’s great,” Marinette said, and realized her tone was wooden. She straightened, breathed air into her lungs. Aimed for sincerity and found it. “That’s really awesome, Chat. I’m happy for you.”

She found herself without anything else to say. Tikki was looking at her with wide, inquisitive eyes. Marinette closed her eyes and invoked her transformation.

Chat Noir did the same. He turned to her, so slowly, and the hesitancy of the motion gave Ladybug a very bad feeling. He could not meet her eye. 

“I’m sorry that was so weird,” he said. “I was going to tell you, it just — there’s never really a right time to say it, you know — it’s not like we have time to catch up, and, well—“

“How long have you been dating?”

“Three weeks.”

Ladybug cringed. Three weeks. That was _ages_. God, what had she said in the interim? Was it all as bad as implying he had schemed to be naked in the same room as her? Whatever. _Whatever_. She could pretend this was nothing. She _should_ pretend this was nothing.

“Well. Congratulations,” Ladybug said. “Belatedly.”

Chat Noir smiled at her, innocent and grateful. “We should get back to it.”

“Yes,” Ladybug agreed. “We need to get out of here.”

-o-

Having Chat Noir be suddenly unavailable was a bruise to her ego she didn’t appreciate.

“I mean, it’s not like I wanted a relationship,” Marinette told Tikki. “But the flirting was like, a pick-me-up. It’s been a constant in our relationship. Now where will I find a boy that will sincerely compliment me at the most inopportune time possible?”

“You could call Luka,” Tikki suggested.

“Ha _ha_ , Tikki. It’s not the same,” groaned Marinette, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “He didn’t like Ladybug the way Chat did.”

Nobody, of course, liked Ladybug the way Chat Noir had. Nothing was the same. Nothing would be the same.

Marinette sat up, feeling an anxious twinge in her stomach. “No use moping, I suppose.” Tikki made a soft sound of discontent, but Marinette ignored her. She scooted over her mattress to peer out the window.

The sun might be setting, but she wouldn’t know. From where she was, the city’s buildings cast long shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who knew I could write multichapter fic? it's about to get wild
> 
> say hello on [tumblr](https://marinxttes.tumblr.com/)


	2. part ii: luka

Underwater, sound distorts.

She feels the cruel song wash over her. The waxing gulfs of the waves are constant and unending.

The first problem, of course, is that he knows her name. From there, she can parse many other problems.

He knows her better than she does, here, knows things about her which she can’t remember. Or maybe it’s the water, maybe it’s only the effect of the truth undulating through a thousand and one repetitions. 

They can’t have been in love. Not him. Not her.

The second problem is this: he can find her, strike at her, even now, even here, under water. 

-o-

Luka was a natural teacher, though he didn’t exactly have a lesson plan. Her first guitar lesson began with him asking her what color she felt like that day and ended with him writing down a list of websites she could find free sheet music. She was to pick a song for the two of them to tackle next lesson.

All through it, Marinette could not stop thinking about the last time they were alone. When he saw her cry. Over Adrien, of all things. And now she was in his bedroom.

“Um,” Marinette said, clutching the guitar he loaned her. “I’m sorry...if the other day was totally weird. It was a weird day, you know?”

She couldn’t quite say it — what had happened. She felt the boat sway under her feet. 

Luka, of course, had a way of understanding her without her saying much at all. It was the way she knew Adrien, she supposed, the way you know people when you bother to pay attention. 

“Sometimes I have those days,” he told her, plucking out a sweet melody with his typical effortless manner. “The kind of days where all these small things, which are usually unnoticeable to me, suddenly become...so loud. I’ll remember something that happened to me, and now it has a sound. And I can’t get it out of my head. That’s when I write music.”

“Really? Is that how you write for Kitty Section?” Marinette said, gesturing to the painted helmet on his desk. 

Luka hesitated, breaking into a shy smile. “Well, no, Rose and I write that together. There’s the band’s music, and there’s _my_ music.”

“Your music?” Marinette said, delighted to shift the conversation away. “What’s it like?”

But Luka only shrugged. Very mysterious. 

“Is it _secret_ music?” Marinette peered at him, playing-acting suspicion.

“Not necessarily,” said Luka, laughing. “Just private. You’ll hear it eventually.”

Marinette fumbled her chord fingering, her nail catching on the string. She had never thought of Luka as a private person — no, he told her his feelings without reservation. But the idea that she stumbled onto some secret emotion disturbed her. Luka had, unwittingly or not, called her bluff. “I was just teasing, you know,” she said. “You don’t—”

“I’m not going to play it now, Marinette,” he said. “Despite what you think, I am a private person.”

Oh, how wonderfully prescient of him. The very fact that he thought about what _she_ thought about him made her uneasy. 

“You don’t have to share it with anyone, if you don’t want to,” Marinette deflected, using the serious voice Ladybug usually used to lecture people.

But he laughed again, unbothered. “Well, what would be the point of that?”

Marinette shrugged. Stared at the empty strings that stretched across the bridge of the guitar. “To have something for yourself.” 

Luka shook his head. “Nah, I can’t do that. The thoughts get too loud, remember?” He tapped the side of his head with his pick. “Have to get them out or I’ll go crazy.”

With a start, Marinette realized that he was trying to comfort her. That somehow, despite her efforts, the conversation had turned again. 

“There’s no point if I can’t share it,” Luka said, with enviable content. His left hand moved across the frets, pressing a soundless pattern of chords Marinette’s beginner’s eye could not parse. “Secrets aren’t for forever. They’re supposed to be shared. Eventually.”

Now that was a definition she could not agree with. 

“I don’t mean,” he corrected, seeing her reaction. “I don’t mean — you don’t _have_ to tell me what’s going on.”

Her stomach took a deep dive. “Talking is hard,” she told him. 

“Music is easier,” he agreed. “We can start there.”

She laughed, and realized too late how mean it sounded, even to her own ears. But it burst out of her, felt too far away to stop. “I don’t see how it will help. This isn’t something — nothing can help me.”

If Luka was offended, he did not show it. He only watched her. “I didn’t really expect you to be cynical.”

“I’m not cynical,” denied Marinette. 

Luka opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m not lying,” she told him, but found no explanation, no follow-up justification. How could she talk about what she had faith in? She couldn’t. Her privacy was too large of a world. It could fill rooms. It could sink house-boats.

Luka’s quiet shock broke into an easy-going smirk. “No worries, Marinette. I didn’t mean it in a judgmental way. If anyone’s entitled to a negative feeling or two, it’s you.”

_What?_

He gestured, and she gave him her guitar. 

Marinette breathed. The words whistled out between her teeth. “But why do you think that?”

Luka ducked his head, looking for the guitar case that sat astride them. He laid her guitar into its case with care. “I don’t want to tell you what to do,” he said, deflecting and diplomatic as always. “But I do think you should be kinder to yourself. Can you do me a favor?”

Marinette nodded. Of course.

Luka closed the lid of the case, throwing down the metal latch with a satisfying snap. He turned back to her, and the earnest look on his face unsettled Marinette. Her tongue felt dry in her mouth.

“Try not to see music as a new project,” he told her with an easy smile. “This can be your break from your projects, okay?”

On the train ride back, Marinette whispered to Tikki: “Do you think Luka knows I’m Ladybug?”

The train-car jostled them. The lights of the underground flashed and scattered past. It was too dim, too empty to mind a girl mouthing words to herself. Marinette was careful to keep her earbuds in.

Tikki replied: “No, but we should not give him any more reason to suspect you.”

Later, when Luka texted her to schedule the next lesson, she took a rain check. After the music festival, she explained. The busiest season, summer. 

-o-

“Twice in two weeks,” murmured Marinette. This closet had an actual coat-rack. She pinched a nice-looking tweed. “Do you need a cookie?” Marinette asked her partner. She reached behind her for her purse, hitting her elbow on a mop. Chat Noir made sure to catch it before it hit the ground. 

“Nope, I’m fine,” he said, just as a waft of cheese smell hit her.

“Eurgh,” Marinette said, and tried to wriggle away from him without tripping over some buckets. 

“Finally, someone understands my plight,” Chat complained. “He is disgusting. Why can’t I have the sweet kwami who loves baked goods?”

“Ladybug privilege,” announced Marinette, holding her nose. “That is,” she gasped, trying not to breathe. “I can’t believe you brought smelly cheese into a closet this small. See if I join you next time.”

Chat laughed, belatedly covering his mouth to muffle the sound. “So you’re saying you’d rather have me naked and unprepared?”

“Only if you’re getting into a closet with me,” she said mournfully. “My hair is going to smell like cheese.”

She could sense him leaning in closer. “Oh my god, no it won’t. Have I ever smelt like cheese?”

Marinette considered. Tapped a thoughtful finger to her cheek. “Maybe the miraculous magic was protecting me from experiencing _that_ sensory disaster.”

Chat made a doubtful sound, and it was quiet while their kwamis ate. Marinette spotted a jug of bleach on the floor, and she began to contemplate whether its scent would overpower the cheese.

“So,” said Marinette. “How’s the girlfriend?”

“Devastatingly in love with me,” Chat answered. “I thought we didn’t discuss personal lives?”

Oh. So _that’s_ how he wanted to play it. 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Well, okay then, _monsieur_ stickler-for-rules.”

Tikki cast her wide eyes up at her, and Marinette couldn’t parse the look for warning or sympathy. 

Marinette turned her head back to the coats. And as she was contemplating the merits of mustard brown fleece, Chat Noir spoke again.

“She’s...she’s good,” he told her, his voice low. Marinette strained to hear him over the white noise of the akuma attack raging a few floors below this room. “I don’t see her as often as I like, since she goes to a different school and all.”

Marinette smiled in the dark.

“Oh, she _goes to a different school_?”

“She’s real!” Chat yelped, but she could hear the amusement in his voice. “She is totally real and totally in love with me!”

“I believe you,” Marinette allowed magnanimously. “You’ve proven yourself trustworthy.”

“Thank you very much,” he said, a nervous energy in his voice breaking into a half-hearted chuckle. “Well, how about you? Who are you dating?”

“No one, really,” said Marinette, folding her arms over her chest. “Well. I’m pretty sure one of my friends wishes we were. He’s not exactly secretive about his feelings. He’s basically told me he likes me, but I don’t know.” Marinette shivered and found herself unable to stop talking. “He’s really sweet, and talented, and such a great listener, but I…”

This closet had a window, she realized. Right in the corner, but the blinds were drawn against the twilight sun. Probably to keep the room cool. Dark. Safe.

“I don’t think I could be with him that way.”

“What?” Chat Noir said. He sounded confused. “What do you mean?”

Marinette shook her head. Chat never understood these things. “Well, for starters, I have a box of miraculouses hidden in my closet. I’m part of an alien world he has no idea about. And I don’t want to lie to him more than I already do.”

Which, to her horror, Luka seemed fully aware he knew that’s what she was doing. 

“That makes sense,” Chat said, sounding distracted.

“And I couldn’t — I couldn’t tell him. That’s too big a secret to keep. I know him. He’d be stupid and try to protect me.” She paused, considering how much to reveal. “He actually got akumatized trying to protect me.”

What a strange thing to admit.

“What — now?”

“No, not now.” 

The ground below them rumbled. The coats swayed, and Marinette shook herself, uncrossing her arms. “We need to go. This isn’t Ladybug therapy time.”

“Right,” said Chat. 

Marinette transformed, and Ladybug waited for him to follow her lead.

-o-

“—and she threw _four_ swords, and Ladybug dodged all of them but had to retreat, and no one was sure where. But then someone saw Chat Noir climb out a window—”

“That’s great, Alya,” Marinette yawned. She shifted, trying to get the phone to rest more comfortably between her shoulder and her temple. She held her needle up to the light. Was this the red thread or the black?

“I get the feeling you’re too tired for this akuma recap.”

The red, perhaps. Or maybe her light was too yellow. “No, I get it,” she said. “They were gone.”

“For six minutes! I bet both of them lost their transformations. I wonder how many times they can recharge in one day, don’t you think that would wear them out?”

Marinette yawned. “I bet.” She pricked her finger. “Ouch.”

“Are you sewing at 1 am _again?_ ”

“Well, only because I have to get them done in time for the concert!” Marinette held the garment at arm’s length. She hadn’t used the red thread after all. She had used teal. “Uh oh.”

“Don’t craft past midnight! It’s never a good idea.”

“Maybe,” Marinette mumbled. Her eyes were throbbing. She cast the garment aside and rubbed at her eyes. Maybe Alya was right.

“Can’t you tell me what you’re working on? Why’s it gotta be a secret?”

“S’more fun this way.” Marinette gently laid her head on her desk, cradling her phone close to her cheek.

“Fun?” laughed Alya. “Is that what you’re having?”

Marinette grinned through her exhaustion. “Oh, shut up.”

“Whatever,” Alya pronounced in her best, passive-aggressive scold. “I just hope, for your sake, that you finish them before the party.”

Marinette opened her eyes. “Party? What party?”

“Jeez, girl, do you not check your messages? Rose texted two hours ago. Sleepover party at her house, for all of us, the night before the festival.”

Marinette sat up, opened the calendar on her phone. “What is that? The 11th? Seventeen days?”

“Sixteen.”

“Yeah, okay,” Marinette murmured. “I can do that.” She picked up her needle and thread.

“Girl, no, go to _bed_.”

“But sixteen _days_ , Alya.”

“Mari, I know you love your secret surprises, but you cannot fall asleep with sharp implements in your hands.”

Marinette considered her needle, and then let her gaze drift to her window, open to the midnight air.

“I don’t understand why you torture yourself like this. It’ll be there tomorrow morning, and you can pick it up _after_ you’ve slept.”

She could hear Paris, still bustling, beyond her window. The soothing, distant noise of cars, footsteps, laughter. Sounds of people living. Hours earlier, the entire metro had shut down because of a tunneling, sword-throwing akuma. But the city was still breathing, and so was she.

“Yeah, okay,” said Marinette. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading loves :) hope to post a chapter a day this week !
> 
> say hello on [tumblr](https://marinxttes.tumblr.com/)


	3. part iii: nino

She has passed the point of no return. 

That is obvious enough, the cutting pressure settling uneasily across her back. It doesn’t matter, of course. She has to keep diving deeper. 

Equally oppressive, of course, is knowing how this adventure will end. She doesn’t quite remember — if she is remembering, or if she is knowing. Often, in dreams you know things that haven’t happened yet. Usually she relishes in certainty, in knowing the ins and outs of every possible outcome of her actions.

But here, under water, she is not comforted. 

Her quarry is further, farthest, and she is too far below the sea to return to the surface. If she gives up now, she will only be subsumed by the depths.

No, she has to dive, she has to journey deeper. The compulsions thrums in her ribs, steering her around her homing beacon. 

Tired. 

If she closes her eyes — her breath bubbles like soda, the dream-ice cradles her, and the salt water rushes in. 

-o-

There were no akuma attacks for ten days. This was great news for Paris, and even better news for Marinette’s meticulously crafted sewing schedule. Still, on the night of the eleventh day (five days since she left her house), Marinette found herself knee-deep in fabric, seriously regretting her decision to hand paint everything. 

Then, mercifully, her phone buzzed.

19:43

@nino

are you dead

19:43

@nino

do you need a break from being dead?

**19:43**

**@marinette**

**if i look at these garments anymore i will scream**

19:44

@nino

okay. i have a distraction for you. an experience, if you will

**19:44**

**@marinette**

**is this supposed to sound shady**

19:44

@nino

kim wants to see the weird english film musical. the 8:15 showing. apparently ondine is really into them. 

**19:44**

**@marinette**

**is this a boys only kind of event?**

19:44

@nino

fuck no. look i’ll buy your popcorn. please. i need someone to be ironic with. kim is far too earnest. 

Marinette snorted. She looked around her bedroom, at the untidy piles of fabric covering every surface and the newspaper on her floor. She stood up, careful to not upset her paint set.

**19:45**

**@marinette**

**ok i’ll go**

19:45 

@nino

good bc we are already outside your house

Marinette threw on a sweatshirt and slunk down the stairs and out the back door. True enough, Nino and Kim were lingering near her mother’s potted basil. 

“Marinette!” Kim exclaimed. “You said yes! Do you love English musicals, too?”

Marinette looked at Nino, who nodded, slowly. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to go see this one, but I’ve been so busy—”

“With your secret project, right? God, I can’t wait for the festival! You always churn out something awesome.”

“Thanks, Kim,” she said, and tugged her sleeve over her hand.

“C’mon then, we’ll be late.”

Kim led them towards the theatre. Marinette leaned in to whisper to Nino: “Is Alya not coming?”

Nino shook his head. “She refused. See for yourself.” He showed her his phone.

19:22

@alya

lol. no thanks

**19:22**

**@nino**

**lame. gonna ask mari**

19:23

@alya loved a text message

19:23

@alya

if she gets brain damage i’m blaming you

“Is it that bad?” Marinette whispered, concerned.

Nino shrugged and let slip a grimace. “Kim _really_ wants to make it work with Ondine.”

True to his word, Nino bought her a ticket and a popcorn. They chose seats near the back, Kim springing up the theatre steps with an energy Marinette had not felt in several weeks. He fidgeted in his seat while Nino and Marinette debated the merits of each of the previews.

She thought, inexplicably, of when she and Adrien had escaped the crowds in another theatre.

“Have you talked to Adrien, lately?”

Nino drummed a silent beat on his knee. “A little. He went into the country with his dad for a week for some photo shoot or something. No wifi at the vacation cottage they stayed at. Kagami showed up without him at the last practice.”

“By herself?” 

“Yeah. She’s real interesting, you know? We talked about this sci-fi book from the ‘80s. But it was kinda awkward, ‘cause her mom apparently didn’t know she was out. She got this real angry phone call and had to leave.”

Marinette shifted in her seat. “Oh.” So Kagami’s mom hadn’t lightened up at all. Marinette should text her and see if she was all right. Surely, Mrs. Tsurugi had to let Kagami come to Rose’s party.

Nino leaned in a little closer. “You wanna know what else?” His eyes twinkled in the low light.

Marinette watched the light change on his face as some action hero on screen bemoaned his thankless duty to the world. She grinned. “What?”

“Kagami told me she had come to see if we had heard from Adrien, because he wasn’t responding to her texts. He forgot to tell her was out of town.”

Marinette’s smile faltered. “That’s...awful. I...I can’t believe he would do that.”

Nino shrugged. “All is _not_ well, that’s all I’m saying.” He nudged her shoulder. Marinette cringed.

“I don’t want to hear that,” she snapped. “Why would you think I wanted to hear that?”

Nino looked a little surprised. “Well, Kagami’s great, but you know…”

Marinette’s face burned. She could not believe this.

“He already apologized, anyway. I think they went out this afternoon, like, two hours after he got back.”

She turned away from him, looking resolutely at the screen. “Whatever.”

Kim shushed them, waving a scolding finger. “Will you two shut up? It’s starting.”

Whatever annoyance she felt toward Nino could not sustain itself over the spectacle of the next few hours. Seconds into the feature, Marinette leaned over to Nino and said in a low voice, “You did not say this was the one with singing _cats._ ”

Nino shook with silent laughter as the actors pranced on screen. “I did _not_...not say there would be singing cats.”

Marinette cast a look over to Kim, who was watching the screen with studious intent. “Poor Kim,” she lamented.

“Poor Ondine,” returned Nino, and Marinette had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing audibly. 

Together, they shared baffled looks and giggles, singing along to the catchier tunes. Kim kept sending them withering looks but could not maintain composure throughout, guffawing along with them.

“I can make this work,” Kim said as they exited the theatre. “I am going to go home and listen to the soundtrack again. Just to be sure.”

_Be sure of what_ , Marinette mouthed to Nino. He waved a hand at her, shushing her. “Sure man,” he told Kim. “Good luck with that.”

Kim took a deep breath, like he was preparing for a distance sprint. “I’ll see you guys later. Dupain-Cheng — I’m lookin’ to be amazed at the party. You better bring it.”

Marinette laughed. “You bet, Kim.”

Kim gave a jaunty salute before turning towards the subway station.

“C’mon, Marinette. I’ll walk you home.”

“Sure,” she agreed, smiling. They turned and began walking in the opposite direction. 

“Now tell me truthfully,” Nino began. “Do you have brain damage? Alya put me in charge of the Marinette, and I want good feedback on my performance review.”

“I dunno, I’m more concerned for you. I think I saw real, human tears during the train number?”

“The choreo, dude. Can’t an artist appreciate artistry?”

“I’m not going to fall into your discourse trap on what counts as real art, Nino.”

“Aw shucks. I can always count on Alya to fall for it.”

Marinette cast him a quick, nervous look. “So. What’d she tell you to make you think you had to babysit me?”

Nino laughed, affable with an awkward tinge. “Geez, Mari. She just said you could use a break.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Sure, yeah, a break from the great burden of recreational sewing for my friends. Oh no, hobbies strike again.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been working extra mornings at the bakery to buy supplies. And you’ve been in a week-long sewing lockdown. For a super secret project not even _Alya_ knows about.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s more fun that way!”

“Fun for us, maybe.”

“So what’s your point, Nino? It’s not like I’m dying or sick or anything. I’m fine. I’m being creative.”

Nino looked put-on, opening and closing his mouth. “Look, okay, Alya’s worried, and I am too. Don’t you think you need —”

God, she hated when Nino and Alya got like this. They weren’t her parents, not like her parents had any say in her _extracurricular activities_. She almost wished they _would_ act more like her parents, who learned not to ask prying questions a long time ago.

If she needed anything, she needed space. Space enough to keep her secrets.

“Please, Nino—”

“You’re fucking ridiculous, Mari. Don’t you know you don’t have to work all the time? You’re a kid.”

That stopped her, along with her indignant irritation, in her tracks. 

“I’m a kid?”

“Yeah, you could try acting like it. Have fun. Tell me something: how do you feel? Right now.”

Marinette let out a breath. “Well, I feel annoyed. At you. And I feel —”

She pictured Kim’s earnest expression, his industrious note-taking in his notes application the minute they left the theatre. 

“I feel…”

Marinette smiled. A proper smile, huge and — the sensation of it was almost alien — when was the last time she smiled like this? She felt...awake, and refreshed. “Better, I guess.”

A late night breeze blew between them and she felt the chill clean through her sweatshirt, felt it chafe against her shoulders. She should have put on another shirt, but she had been distracted, spontaneous. For once, she snuck out of her house at night to do something normal.

And she was still feeling spontaneous. Marinette wrapped her arms around Nino in a quick hug. He touched a hand briefly to her back, and she let him go. He looked at her, his eyes soft and quietly concerned, because he was Nino.

“Thanks, man,” she said, hoping he would take it as an apology. “This was really — this was really great.”

Nino waggled his eyebrows at her, and she laughed again.

“I’m not lying. I had fun, and by the way—”

Behind her, far off, something exploded.

“Oh no,” said Nino, but Marinette was already moving, tackling Nino to the still-shaking ground. They land hard enough that Marinette was fairly certain she scraped her elbow. Marinette raised her head up, barely caught sight of a dark blue smudge moving along the rooftops.

“We gotta hide,” said Nino, pulling her up. Marinette agreed, distracted, trying to track the trajectory of the light beam buzzing overhead, sliding down the side of a nearby building façade.

Too late, she realized. The wall beside them blasted apart, igniting a tree and sending them tumbling again. The back of Nino’s head cracked against the pavement, and he went limp.

“Nino!”

She scrambled over him, cradling his head, turning hers, holding her breath as she listened for his. Unconscious, just unconscious.

Marinette stood, searching again for the attacker on the rooftops. Further away now, the blue figure leaping toward downtown, the neon laser flying again and again, shaking the ground with distant explosions.

“Shit.”

Marinette turned her back against the still-smoldering fire, away from Nino’s unmoving body. She stepped over the jagged terrain of torn asphalt and brick. Another fire, due north. “Tikki,” Marinette said. “Transform me.”

-o-

The column tipped, falling along with a good deal of the roof. 

“Go,” Chat urged her. Ladybug threw open the nearest door and stumbled in, Chat hot at her feet. The door slammed behind them, bracing against a shuddering impact of the falling building. She waited for it to cave in, but it held. 

In the darkness, the beep of Chat Noir’s ring broke the muffled silence. They were standing so close that it sounded, piercing, in her ear. 

“Great. Just great.” Ladybug sighed, closing her eyes. _Don’t think about Nino. Not now._ “You’d better recharge,” she told Chat.

“Sorry,” he said, and released his transformation.

Ladybug shook her head, and stiffened when she felt her cheek brush leather — his collar? Wherever they were, they were packed close.

“It’s okay,” she said. It was going to be okay. “My fault anyway,” she admitted, tilting her head away from the movement at her side. Nothing to see, anyway, in the dark. “I made you use your power too soon.”

Chat took an exploratory step away from the door, but only knocked elbows with her.

She felt him open his shirt, the fabric grazing her arm. He hurriedly dug through his pockets, looking for cheese to feed his kwami. She had to lean further back to give him sufficient room. “We’ll get it done, my—buh— Ladybug,” he told her.

Ladybug smiled tight, turning her face away. What a demotion. Not his bugaboo, or his Lady, only Ladybug. 

She felt a retort on the tip of her tongue: maybe she should find a way to open the miracle box, maybe she’d pick a new partner who would come up with a new nickname for her, and it was only a joke, only teasing about silly nicknames and his newfound awkwardness around her, but she knew she couldn’t say it, not ever, knew he would take it terribly, knew that saying it would hurt him much more than he’d wounded her. She never thought she would stop being his Lady. She didn’t think that was something that could stop. 

_What a fucking mess_ , Ladybug thought as he shifted around her, and she moved with him. Somehow this was an admission, a confession beyond anything he said to her before. He had properly loved her, and now he had chosen someone else.

Plagg chewed with minimal discontent. Ladybug blinked rapidly, thankful she was in front of him and that it was so dark. She bet his nicknames for his civilian girlfriend were absolutely saccharine. 

Another comment she couldn’t say.

“Ladybug,” Chat began. “No, never mind.”

Ladybug sighed. “We have a couple minutes until Plagg is ready. Come on, it’s your turn for superhero therapy hour.”

She corrected: “Superhero therapy five minutes.”

Chat laughed at that, and she felt it, his chest shuddering with the breath of it.

“I just — I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how you thought dating your friend would be unfair to him.”

Ladybug tipped her head, acknowledging,

“I guess now I’m worried. That I’m being unfair to — to my friend.”

She laughed then, and the sound of it was nasal, harsh. “You want me to give you, what, _permission_ to date your girlfriend?” Ladybug shifted to her other foot, away from him. “No thanks,” she said. 

“That’s not what I said.”

“You can do what you want, Chat,” she told him, her tone clipped and short. God willing, he would shut up now. He usually did, when he realized he was striking a nerve.

But sometimes, Chat Noir still surprised her. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, the question huge in the opaque dark.

“I’m mad that you’re bringing this up at the worst possible time.” Trust Chat to want to talk about _feelings_ when they were trapped and an akuma was rampaging.

He let out a disbelieving huff. “When else am I supposed to bring it up? I literally can’t talk to anyone else about this. You know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she snapped. “I’m talking about not literally right now.”

Chat’s scoff broke into a scornful laugh. “So you can talk forever about your feelings about some...some _guy —_ but I’m not allowed to ask your advice while we wait?”

Something about the way he said the words was unbearable. The tone of them bobbed and weaved through jealousy and indignation. He was right, of course, and he was wrong. 

“You’re not allowed to ask me that when I’m obviously upset!” 

She could feel it, somehow, how he softened. “I — didn’t I know you were upset. I mean, now I can tell, but —“

Ladybug stared stubbornly at the spot the door used to be, blinking at nothing.

“You used to know! You used to just _know_ ,” Ladybug said, harsh and petulant. “What I was feeling,” she finished meekly.

He had no answer for that.

She breathed. “I’m sorry. But you really can do what you want, Chat. You don’t have to...be like me. We’re not — everybody’s different, you know? It’s not like I’m right and everyone else is wrong.”

God knows Nino had proven that to her, tonight. _He would be all right_ , she repeated to herself. Ladybug was going to fix everything.

“I just wanted your opinion,” Chat Noir said softly, a tinge of irritation remaining in his voice. “Not just because you’re the guardian now and literally set the rules for how superheroes are supposed to act.”

_You’re the guardian now_. 

Ladybug shook, a surprised laugh slipping out. “Don’t say that to me.”

Chat laughed too, a small, fragile chuckle. Marinette felt very small then, very foolish in this stupid closet. It might be claustrophobia bearing down on her, or perhaps the biting self-awareness that she was keeping too many secrets from her partner. She once believed that she and Chat Noir would always be honest with each other. She didn’t know what to think anymore, except that she couldn’t tell him why she was upset. Not unless she wanted the whole city to fall down around their ears.

Chat sighed, loud. “I’m just saying I wanted to know what you think, because I respect your opinion above everyone else’s.”

Ladybug wanted to say _thank you_ , but those weren’t the right words. Not anymore.

“Maybe we should talk when we’re not hiding from an akuma,” he said, because he knew her feelings, knew what she was thinking before she said it.

“Yeah,” she whispered, but it was drowned out by the sound of his transformation. 

-o-

00:01

@nino 

i just woke up two blocks from my house, feeling all tingly instead of bruised. we stan healing charm. 

**00:01**

**@marinette**

**i couldn’t find you. i woke up near home too.**

00:02

@nino

don’t worry about it. sucks the evening was cut short

**00:05**

**@marinette**

**i’m just glad you’re okay**

00:05

@nino

back atcha, mari. 

When Marinette got home, she closed the hatch as quietly as possible. The last thing she needed to follow up the disaster of tonight was her parents waking up and finding out she had snuck out.

Her room was still a mess, half-finished garments abandoned mid-crafting session. Marinette sighed, far too tired to clean it up or organize the chaos. Instead she took the few steps to her closet and opened it. She pushed aside her hangers, fetched the cardboard box from the fair corner, uncovered the old hoodie that covered it. 

Inside was the miracle box, vibrantly red and spotted, the unmistakable evidence of her connection to Ladybug. She stared at it, and, with enough hesitation to make herself cringe, touched its surface. She waited, eyes falling closed, one moment, and another, counting to ten in her head. 

Marinette opened her eyes. Nothing.

“I don’t know what to do, Tikki.”

She cast her eyes to the ceiling.

“Maybe it won’t open because I’m making myself miserable.”

What was she supposed to do, anyway? Get therapy? With the box sealed, the only person she could talk to about this was Chat. But she couldn’t talk to him anymore. Tonight made that very clear to her.

A red smudge hovered at her temple. “Master Fu wasn’t exactly well adjusted or balanced,” said Tikki. “He was wracked by guilt and plagued by desire to be with Marianne.”

Marinette put a hand over her mouth, a little scandalized. “Tikki!”

The little god continued: “And he continually put the burden of his secrets onto you and refused to trust Chat Noir the way he trusted you. He endangered your partnership and ultimately chose to leave instead of fighting by your side. In many ways, he was a cowardly and lonely man who avoided responsibility whenever he could.”

Marinette twisted her mouth, touched the inert box again. “That’s not all true. He also fought for centuries to keep the box safe. And he did. To live your life with that kind of paranoia — I can’t blame him for wanting to escape.”

Tikki nodded. “He was one of the best guardians I’ve ever met.”

Oh.

“You can make mistakes, Marinette,” Tikki said, and she was smiling. “It will open when you need it.”

“Chat Noir and I keep getting cornered,” Marinette said. “Maybe it’s trying to teach me to not rely on the other miraculouses.”

“Miraculouses _are_ dangerous,” said Tikki. “You and Chat Noir are capable of great things when you work together.”

In the distance, the city was still screaming.

“I know,” said Marinette, and shoved the miracle box back into the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> presidential alert: the girls are fightingggg
> 
> say hello on [tumblr](https://marinxttes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
